


Falling With Grace

by dea_umbrium



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Darlene Wilson (mentioned), Gen, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Sam Wilson, It's Marvel, Magical Realism, Minor Character Death, Minor Character(s), Minor Violence, Multi, Other, POV First Person, POV Second Person, Paul Wilson (mentioned) - Freeform, it's not terribly clear here but, read the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 15:59:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12172131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dea_umbrium/pseuds/dea_umbrium
Summary: You'd forgotten the taste of the air and feeling of it on your wings. You will not forget again.Sam Wilson is not as he seems, though it's not readily apparent, even to him.for the Sam Wilson Birthday Bang.READ THE NOTES.





	Falling With Grace

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, shoutout to the incomparable Sarsaparilla who dealt with my failure to fic with aplomb. They are here on [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarsaparilla/pseuds/Sarsaparilla) and [tumblr](https://sarsasart.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Secondly, I am a terrible person and will most likely be back to make changes to this as it was unbetaed and stream of consciousness. 
> 
> Thirdly: WARNINGS. I didn't post in the tags because everything was so vague, also I hate tagging with a passion. So there are vague references to: Suicide ideation, slavery, violence, violent death, gore. I feel like I'm forgetting something, so do let me know if you catch it!
> 
> This is for the Sam Wilson Birthday Bang over on [tumblr](http://samwilsonbirthdaybang.tumblr.com).

It was never supposed to end th---

 

How iro--

 

No. Not irony. Not in this case.

 

How else was it going to end.

 

It’s just funny really. Spent so long catching folks, missing a good few of the ones that mattered and now, you fall, with no one to catch you.

 

‘S a fucking joke. 

 

And you’d laugh if you couldn’t feel how very broken your ribs are and how full your lungs are of liquid instead of what should be there.

 

You see in his face that part of him has already accepted it, even as he reacts with horrified disbelief. 

 

You can’t even comfort him, take his hand in yours -- the left one’s mangled and you can’t feel your right -- oh, it’s over there. 

 

\----

 

_ I never went into the air thinking I would lose. _

**_Commander Randy 'Duke’ Cunningham_ ** _ , USN _

 

\----

 

Years ago, before so many of us were born, a seer came to the palace speaking of a great prophecy. 

 

They spoke of a time coming where we, Wakanda and her people, would enter into isolation from the rest world greater than before, for safety and due to trickery from those around us. They said that then a king would slowly open the borders of country and heart and that would be his legacy, passed on to his children. They said his children would bring about a fantastic and wonderful age for our country that would last, although, for how long, they would not say.

 

The first king the seer spoke of was my grandfather. They knew everything about his arrival on this Earth, down to his name, date of birth and what he would weigh.

 

I seem perturbed? 

 

I am, because it was odd. Not the seer, but their timing and the prophecy itself.

 

Why was that odd?

 

Because at the time of their arrival, my great grandfather had not even born yet.

 

\----

 

You have been called many things. 

 

Angel.

 

Demon.

 

Roc.

 

Impundulu.

 

You are all and none.

 

A thing with feathers, wings, filled with hope -- you loved her for that. You always will.

 

You’ve hated it, too, but no one knows that it’s about you so...

 

What you are has had no name, for you existed before the concept.

 

You’ve been immortalized, inaccurately throughout history. No one ever quite got you down. Or got you right, even as you stood on earth. Even as you showed them your truest face.

 

You are a being with wings. With thoughts. With beliefs. 

 

With brown skin and brown eyes.

 

With wide shoulders and an open heart.

 

With decades of wisdom and bones full of experience.

 

And now that you remember, you will not forget again.

 

\---

 

_ “Hope” is the thing with feathers -  _

_ That perches in the soul - _

_ And sings the tune without the words - _

_ And never stops - at all - _

__ **_Emily Dickinson,_ ** _ “Hope” is the thing with feathers (314) (1-4) _

 

\---

 

I am willing to admit that when I was told the prophecy and my place in it, I was torn. I was also very angry and very afraid. 

 

I was ready to do my duty, for my people and country, as both citizen and king. And yet, I was ill prepared and felt ill suited to the task presented to me by fate.

 

The prophecy spoke of my grandfather's reign. The seer said that outsiders would come and take that which is precious, but only so much and in doing so would cause my grandfather to close us off even to the point of becoming myth.

 

And so it was. Someone came and stole vibranium which would eventually become the good Captain's shield. 

 

\----

 

You were born, the previous millennium, this 21st century, this life, to Paul and Darlene Wilson.

 

You were their youngest child, after beloved Gideon and sweet Sarah. 

 

Samuel Thomas Wilson. 

 

A strong name. A name, drenched in meaning, heavy with purpose yet light on the tongue. 

 

Samuel, Name of G-d, G-d has heard. Last of the ruling judges. Anointer of Kings.

 

Thomas, twin. Doubter of the resurrection of Christ. ( _ He’s not that special, that other man out of time. You were right to doubt, this time.) _

 

“Son of a preacher man, indeed.”  _ Except, no, not really, this time around. _

 

You remember being six years old and getting ready for church one morning. 

 

You gave your parents both grey hair that day because you wouldn’t get dressed. 

 

Your little suit was all picked out, so were your shiny (like Daddy’s) shoes.

 

You wouldn’t put the suit on. You picked it out yourself and ironed your shirt and and shined your shoes and picked out your tie and matching socks (just like Daddy). And yet, you would not put anything on, except your shoes and socks.

 

You wouldn’t tell anyone why you were so upset or why you were crying because even then, you knew that wearing certain things would make people look at you a certain way. And you were, even then, so tired of people looking at you ‘in certain ways’.

 

Your father was a discerning man, full of kindness and wisdom. He saw what you wouldn’t say ( _ you’re still not sure how)  _ and pulled your mother aside.

 

You’ve never known what was said, but you mother looked at you then, with dark eyes full of sadness and a smile full of love and asked what you wanted to wear instead.

 

And then, you couldn’t decide, couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t  _ not the suit _ .

 

You mother was a smart cookie, full of the same discernment and kindness and wisdom as your father. But, where he prepared a speech, she was a bit more practical.

 

In what seemed an instant, she left your room and reappeared with the dress you’d been eyeing but said nothing about because it was too expensive first, because it was a dress second.

 

You cried. Gideon swears down that you bawled your eyes out, almost screaming. Sarah claims that you just said 'thank you’, over and over again.

 

You don’t remember any of that really, just how much you loved your parents, your family.

 

They stood proudly beside you that Sunday morning, with you in your new dress that looked like your Mama’s and your shoes that looked like your Daddy’s (because you liked Daddy’s shoes a lot more that day than the Mary Janes’ that your Daddy had gotten).

 

\----

 

_ You wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down. _

**_Toni Morrison,_ ** _ Song of Solomon _

 

\----

 

When he died, when he closed his eyes for the last time, your father left a gaping hole in your universe. When you mother died, something in you vanished, never to return. 

 

And yet.

 

They recruited you right out of highschool. You hadn’t expected it -- wanted, yes, but never expected it. Never expected it to be so easy. It was almost as if they’d been watching you.  _ (They had, you found out later. Your parent’s deaths made it easier to get you really.) _

 

You immediately went into a specialisation. 

 

Pararescue. 

 

You were going to save people. Be their guardian angel. Or their avenging one. 

 

You would be the last one in to get the good guys out.

 

And then you met Riley.

 

Then they gave you wings.

 

You almost broke into pieces and reformed again but you held it in. You didn’t know then what you were holding in was your own wings, your own self but Riley, Riley saw and held you close, down to earth, in his arms. He soothed what he thought was a panic attack and bound you more tightly to the earth than you’d been in a long time.

 

\----

 

_ Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the Earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return. _

**_Leonardo da Vinci_ **

 

\----

 

One could say that meeting Steve Rogers changed your life. 

 

He tends to do that.

 

He did do that.

 

Came into your world on feet still trying to stick in the mud and catch up to a world that left him behind.

 

He had eyes like yours, knew what it was like to watch someone fall. 

 

He had an air you couldn’t help but breathe in and almost get trapped in.

 

You pulled out the wings again, but with no Riley to ground you in the present, in your own body. Just a memory of a man ( _ a boy really _ ) with eyes like sky and hair like the sun. 

 

You never told Captain America he reminded you of a past love. Steve Rogers knew.

 

You fought a man who in another heart was Riley and thought he couldn’t be saved. 

 

He saved himself. 

 

Looking for him helped you save yourself.

 

Until Ultron and after and after and the Raft.

 

_ You don’t like to think about those times.  _

 

_ Rhodes fell and fell because you decided that life was worth living again. _

 

_ You sent a friend, who barely left an enemy. _

 

_ You were imprisoned again. _

 

\----

 

When I was a small child, I vanished from the palace for 3 hours. 

 

I don’t remember being taken, but I do not truly remember leaving of my own volition.

 

What I do remember is the Panther, and a little bird.

 

Such beautiful eyes and such a lovely smile. 

 

You were beautiful to me even then. 

 

I spent many months after that wondering about this child who spoke Wakandan with so strange an accent and who looked at me with eyes that I later realized, looked so old. 

 

I did not know then and I do not believe you did either.

 

You looked down off the top of the statue - and I do not recall how we got up there, only that we should not have been - and looked as if you wanted to jump, but not--

 

You looked as if you had lost all will to fly. 

 

It made me so terribly sad, and perhaps it was selfish, but I did not wish for you to go, then.

 

I do not wish for you to leave me now.

 

\----   
  


_ And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - _

_ and sore must be the storm -  _

_ That could abash the little Bird _

_ That kept so many warm - _

__ __ **_Emily Dickinson,_ ** _ “Hope” is the thing with feathers (314) (5-8) _

 

\----

 

You know that you will not let it happen again. 

 

Not to him.

 

Not to them.

 

It is time to remember the weight of wings, the weight of the world and all her people and their failings.

 

You are the hope of the planet. 

 

This planet that enslaved you for your skin one century. Your blood in another millenia. And your very soul in prophecy you tried to ignore.

 

Never again.

 

Not to him.

 

Not to them.

 

Not to you.

 

You will maim. You will break. You will kill. 

 

You will die before you allow it.

 

They will know that earth is protected by you and yours.

 

They will know the strength of your arms and the swiftness of your vengeance.

 

You’re not feeling very merciful and it shows in your smile.

 

\----

 

_ Fighting in the air is not sport. It is scientific murder. _

**_Captain Edward V. 'Eddie’ Rickenbacker, USAS_ ** _ , 'Fighting the Flying Circus’ _

 

\----

 

When you--

 

Watching you--

 

Seeing you fall, knowing I could do nothing--

 

I have been so afraid, very few times in my life.

 

It was as if-as if I was there simply to watch.

 

You are so strong, beloved.

 

This will not--

 

My heart could not bear it.

 

I will make it so this will never happen again.

 

I promise.

 

Never again.

 

\----

 

There is blood in your teeth making your smile beautiful and terrible to behold.

 

You can feel your arm twitching in an enhanced,  _ grieving, angry, _ grip and you're almost sorry when whoever it is, drops your arm in shock.

 

It scuttles to you and attaches with little preamble.  _ You never were one for showing off - unless it was in the sky. _

 

They got some things right, those sculptors and writers and dreamers and believers.

 

Your wingspan is wide, your hands big , your arms and thighs corded with muscle, your eyes sharp.

 

Your grin is sharper still, your guns cocked and ready and when the bullets run out, you have your gifts, finite and endless as they are.

 

Once again, war has come. Once again, you will fight.

 

You will take up this centuries arms, this millennium's swords and shields and stain the sky red, leaving bodies to nourish the soiled ground below.

 

Soon, they will fight or they will flee or they will die.

 

Them and only them, you hope, for you have lost too many already in different battles, different wars. And you cannot bear to lose anymore. 

 

Especially not him.

 

You will make sure that our point is understood.

 

Those left alive will remember, but you will make it so they never forget.

 

\----

 

You cannot--

 

I-well, I only know what I saw and what I saw was terrifying and awe inspiring. 

 

I have never seen war or bloodshed as something beautiful. And I still do not. And yet, watching you battle across the skies as like a winged god of war, I was enraptured.

 

I have never been more proud, nor have I ever been more humbled. 

 

To fight alongside you. To feel your power and protection. To feel your soul sing to mine. 

 

I have no words, truly.

 

I never relished my destiny, my fate. 

 

I was somewhat flippant in my youth, until I met you and then it became a far more serious affair.

 

Yet, even after our encounter then, I was not fully aware of it, until I read and saw, listened and learned. And still it was not wholly real.

 

Until the UN, until Zemo, until you in Wakanda, in the palace, listening to a story that ended up being about you.

 

I thought it a coincidence and hid from you, I admit. 

 

I was not prepared to face you then and did not feel as if you could be who I thought you were.

 

And you could not be who I thought you were because you did not remember me or wear the colours I knew.

 

And then, the statue and your eyes. 

 

I cursed fate then because how could you be anyone but my destiny. And yet, you could not be my destiny because you did not know me.

 

I know now that we had to learn one another, to truly be able to bring about the future that was foreseen.

 

I believe that I am ready now.

 

\----

 

In this life, you were born Samuel Thomas Wilson, but you go by Sam.

 

You like dresses and shiny shoes.

 

You have brown skin and beautiful smile.

 

You have lost much but gained just as much in return.

 

You have a destiny.

 

You have wings.

 

And you’re finally prepared for both.

 

\----

 

_ I have wings on the back of my shoulders, and I’m ready to fly. _

**_Pamela Laskin_ ** _ , Ronit & Jamil _

__ __

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I do hope this was mildly entertaining.  
> It took 85 years to format so F you too AO3 Rich Text editor.  
> I have been exhausted for 26 years... this was meant to be up so much earlier.  
> You can come shout at me on [tumblr](shedonewentboom.tumblr.com)


End file.
